


Claim My Body Like a Vandal

by Minxchester



Series: MarvelPolyshipBingo20 [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Biting, Boss Kink, Boss/Employee Relationship, Clint sucks at doing his paperwork, Cunnilingus, Deaf Clint Barton, Desk Sex, Dom Phil Coulson, Dom/sub Undertones, Edgeplay, F/M, Fingerfucking, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Paperwork, Sort of spitroasting, Sub Clint Barton, Sub Natasha Romanov, Teasing, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23347237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxchester/pseuds/Minxchester
Summary: "'...you know I’ll be perfectly happy to reward you once you get it all finished.'”Fill for the Marvel Polyship Bingo 2020 prompt, "Daddy/Mommy/Boss!" In this case, it is Boss Kink (though don't even try to tell me Phil doesn't radiate Daddy energy :D )(Title from "Problem" by Natalia Kills, which is hardcore a Natasha theme song).
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson/Natasha Romanov, Phil Coulson/Natasha Romanov
Series: MarvelPolyshipBingo20 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596730
Comments: 6
Kudos: 101
Collections: Marvel Polyship Bingo 2020





	Claim My Body Like a Vandal

**Author's Note:**

> Note that while it is tagged because I mention his hearing aids, Clint being Fraction-canon deaf is not significant to the plot (ha what plot) of this scene.
> 
> Nat uses intermittent Russian--Google translate is your friend. But it's basically mostly swearing or calling Clint affectionate names.

“Barton--my office, now.”

Phil never did waste effort on greetings, niceties, or closure when he called his agents on their work phones. Clint put his phone back in his pocket and smirked as he packed his gear back away. His supervisory agent hadn’t sounded like he was displeased, so that meant that there was a fifty-fifty chance of the summons being for pleasure rather than business. 

Taking the elevator up to the office floor of the S.H.I.E.L.D. building, he headed to the door at the end of the hall and knocked lightly.

“Enter.”

Stepping inside, Clint closed the door behind himself and gave the older man a knowing grin. “I saw you just this morning, boss--ya miss me already?”

Instead of looking at him, Phil picked up a folder and held it out in his direction. “I miss the days when you were intimidated enough by me that you got your paperwork done within twelve hours after a mission was complete. You’re two point five missions behind, and I’ve generously compiled it all here for you to get done."

Clint groaned, one hand already inching backwards toward the doorknob. “You could also generously forge my handwriting on them. You’ve mastered that skill by now.”

Phil finally looked his way, and that one glance had Clint deflating, dropping his hand and obediently crossing the room to his supervisor’s side. “Alright, alright,” he grumbled, taking the file and a pen and crossing the room to drop into one of the chairs. He’d used to wonder why Phil had his desk against the wall, which put anyone occupying the chairs at his back; but then Clint had learned just how good Phil’s senses were. There was no such thing as sneaking up on the older man, least of all in his own office. “Just sayin’, you don’t  _ mind _ this part. To me it’s a slow death for the brain.”

“Well, if you become the boss someday then you can delegate the desk jockeying,” Phil offered, and Clint could hear the smirk in his voice without needing to see his face as Phil remained focused on his papers, back resolutely to Clint. “And if it stops you from complaining, you know I’ll be perfectly happy to  _ reward _ you once you get it all finished.”

That made Clint pause in his fidgety pen clicking, his eyes darting up to the older man, but Phil didn’t look back at him. “...does that mean what I hope it means?”

“That depends on your work pace, and thoroughness of completion.” Phil did glance back then, and now his knowing little smile was visible. “If you rush through it half-assed, then you’re not getting any prizes. Do your work properly, and then you’ll be treated like the good boy that I know you can be.”

Clint huffed, shifting in his seat and glancing regretfully at his lap. “You  _ are _ aware that I work even slower when you get me hard, right?”

Phil had the audacity to chuckle out loud at that. “I’m not concerned about how long it takes you. There’s still plenty of hours in the work day, and your contract doesn’t stipulate against overtime.” His eyes cut to Clint one more time, one brow arching as he watched the blonde continue to wriggle his hips as he tried to get comfortable before opening the folder. “And squirming is just making it worse on yourself, as I’m sure you know.”

Groaning, Clint slunk down in the chair, spreading his legs to ease the pressure before grabbing a clipboard for support as he tried to focus on the contents of the file.

For a brief interim, the scratching of their pens was the only sound. Clint risked muttering mutinously once before giving up at the stern look that it earned him, subsiding into sulky obedience as he made what Phil would call extremely unnecessarily slow progress on the paperwork.

After what felt to Clint like ten years, the door opened again. He looked up, eyebrows rising when Natasha slipped inside. She closed and locked the door behind her and crossed directly to Phil’s side. “You texted, boss?”

As he’d done when Clint first arrived, Phil did not look up; but rather than a folder of paperwork, he only held out his hand to her. Nat took it promptly, and he drew her against him. Natasha leaned against his shoulder, peeking over at Clint. “Busted on late work again, baby?” He grimaced, actually sticking his tongue out at her, and she grinned knowingly.

“Did you do as I asked?” Phil asked her, still somehow writing at his normal diligent pace. If Clint hadn’t known the older agent well enough, he wouldn’t have thought the man’s attention was actually on Natasha--but it absolutely was.

Natasha faced Clint fully, gripping the front of the desk and hopping up in order to perch on the edge of the dark wood surface. “Of course, sir.” Only then did Clint register that she was wearing a simple black dress that only went halfway down her thighs. Beneath it, when she had settled on the desk and spread her legs more comfortably, he groaned when he saw nothing but a scrap of red lace covering her pussy.

“Good girl.” Phil placed his hand on her leg, letting it slide slowly up, and Nat leaned back on her hands as if presenting herself to his exploring touch. “Clint, I don’t hear your pen moving.”

The archer narrowed his eyes, and Nat cocked her head, giving him a pointed look. He could see the thoughts as if they were printed on her face:  _ Get moving so  _ he _ gets moving again.  _ Huffing irritably, Clint looked back at the paperwork, but the words meant nothing whatsoever to his brain. And the instant he forced himself to scratch down another signature, Phil apparently went back to his current task, judging by the pleased moan that Natasha let out.

He glanced up, drawing out the next signature so that Phil would not stop, and Clint could enjoy watching their handler’s knowing, clever fingers reach the apex of her thighs. Nat let out a tiny mewl of need, arching forward, and then whimpered as Phil promptly withdrew a few inches again.

“If I have to remind you to get back to work every time she makes a sound for me, that will count as disobeying, Clint.” He looked sharply at the older man; Phil had angled his body, enabling him to again look back at Clint with a cocked eyebrow. “I’ll stop what I’m doing to her, and I think we both know that you know better than to be the cause of Natasha not getting what she wants.”

“Ya pokonchu s toboy, yesli on ostanovitsya,” she grumbled, and Clint didn’t recognize every word but he definitely understood the overall tone.

“Not my fault he’s being a sadist,” he protested mildly, and Nat let out a warning growl. “Fine, fine...” Clint turned the page over, trying to make his brain process what he was reading; the last thing that he needed was to mess this packet up and have to do it all fucking over again. That was even more nightmarish than doing it in the first place.

“Fuck, sir...yes...”

Clint inhaled sharply, daring to take the quickest of peeks--Phil had nudged her thighs more widely apart, and now he was rubbing two fingertips knowingly over her clit through the lace. Suppressing a moan of his own, Clint finished the almost-illegible statement he had started on this document weeks before, indicating that the mission was a success, before signing off on it. “The Moscow case--done,” he managed, signing off on it and removing the stapled pages from the pile on his clipboard.

“Set it behind the others and continue,” Phil replied, and then the bastard hooked his index finger into the edge of the lace panties and tugged them aside, enabling him to run his middle finger directly over her clit. Natasha groaned and leaned back on her hands, spreading her legs wider to encourage more contact--or to show off to Clint that  _ one _ of them, at least, was having a good time.

“Sir...”

“Moscow was the first of the three,” Phil said, and his tone was so fucking level it was hard to believe that his finger was now circling Nat’s slit, testing if she was wet enough for penetration. “There are two other missions in that folder. Get back to writing, Agent Barton.”

Natasha let out a noise that belonged in Clint’s very best dreams, and it was accompanied by the blissful sound of Phil’s finger sliding into her cunt, faint and wet and good enough that Clint had to take five seconds to watch her face slacken with pleasure before he made himself keep reading.

“Please, sir...more, another finger, pozhaluysta...”

Phil chuckled softly, and when Clint risked the fastest peek upward, he exhaled a groan as he watched Phil’s middle finger join the first, both beginning to plunge in and out more swiftly. Nat reclined back on her arms, her skirt riding up obscenely high on her thighs as she spread her legs wide to encourage more. Her reward was the addition of Phil’s thumb rubbing over her clit as he finger-fucked her, and Clint dropped his pen.

Phil’s hand went still, and Natasha bucked against his hand with a low curse. “Clint, klyanus' Bogom--I will  _ flay _ you--”

He huffed, grabbing the pen and marking his signature. “Okay, you cannot seriously blame me when he’s making me want to walk over there and bury my tongue in--”

“Another protest from that tongue and I’m going to stop touching her and let her handle you however she wants to,” Phil cut him off, and Clint bit his lip hard enough to sting as he swallowed back his words. “Good boy.” The older agent’s hand resumed moving, and Nat whimpered, lifting a hand to begin teasing her own tits through her dress. “I don’t hear you writing.”

“Motherfuck...” Clint was half-tempted to be properly sulky and turn around in his chair, or something--anything to make it less agonizing to try and do real actual work while his lovers tortured him with sex ten feet away. But he couldn’t tear his eyes from Nat’s hand as she tugged the collar of her dress down so that her lack of bra was revealed, and she had the cruelty to wink at him as she pinched her fingers around her nipple, moaning and rocking harder onto Phil’s fingers as she pleasured herself.

With the hand that wasn’t playing with her, Phil handed Nat something, and she hummed happily before holding up the gleaming metal for Clint to see.

_ Shit _ . “Please, no,” Clint whimpered, gripping the pen nearly hard enough to break it as Nat flaunted the cock cage. “I’ll be good--” His hand was fucking shaking as he tried to resume writing, asaulted by the increasing gasps and whines falling from Nat’s lips as Phil worked her pussy and clit harder.

“If she comes before you finish those reports, you won’t be getting fucked,” Phil informed him, and Clint couldn’t stop his growl at how infuriatingly calm the man still sounded. “What was that, boy?”

“...nothing.” He was capable of focus. Clint forced himself not to look at Nat again, going as quickly as he could through the second document, though nothing short of removing his hearing aids could have forced him to block out her noises. Clint’s teeth were clenched tightly enough to creak when he finally signed and dated the damned thing and tucked it under the first.

“Chert, ya ryadom--” He risked a peek upward, and Nat was outright gyrating on the edge of the desk, humping Phil’s hand and squeezing both of her tits, teeth digging into her plush red bottom lip. “Phil--sir--”

Phil’s hand slowed to a stop. Clint dropped the pen at the volume of the curse that Natasha uttered, scrambling to grab it as Nat bucked wildly. “Sir, chto za  _ khren'--” _

“Have to give the boy a fighting chance,” Phil told her, and his smirk was fucking audible. “You distracted him. He’s only got one left, vozlyublennaya, don’t you want to let Clint lick you clean after I make you squirt for us?”

She hissed some choice oaths under her breath, but nodded before looking sharply back at Clint.  _ “Write, _ mudak!”

“Why’s she so much scarier when she switches to Russian?” Clint grumbled, but he obeyed the command more than willingly.

“Because we know it means she’s about to either kill someone or make one of us come so hard we see stars,” Phil replied cheerfully, and then the bastard resumed moving his hand. Clint could  _ hear _ the slick, sopping sound of her cunt squeezing around the fingers stretching her, and her lovely breathless whimper was enough to make his entire body blaze with need.

“Can I undo my pants?” Clint begged, squirming. “‘M still writing, I swear--”

“You may.”

He had the zipper down in two seconds flat, and the relief was enough to make him exhale a few Russian curses of his own before he refocused on the final pages.  _ Mission briefing... _ no errors, signed _...R10-AR7 reports....ammunition requests... _ last page...

“In triplicate.” Phil hadn’t turned around, Clint had no clue how his lover knew he’d reached the final sheet, but he merely gritted his teeth and obeyed, pulling out the additional papers to add signatures and dates until finally--

The numbers were barely legible, but Clint didn’t give a shit as he clicked the pen as decisively as if he was removing the clip of a gun, and slapped the folder of reports closed. “Sir?”

Phil looked back, eyes twinkling. “Good boy.” Clint didn’t move, barely dared to breathe without instruction, and Phil’s smile sharpened with approval as he simultaneously began moving his hand faster. Nat cried out, slamming her hands down on the desk on either side of her, choking on something that might have been pleading or might have just been more swearing in Russian. “Come for me, Natasha.”

Clint didn’t think there was anything in the world that he found more beautiful than Nat’s face when she climaxed. Her orgasms were full-bodied, violent and beautiful, as raw and tempestuous as the woman herself.

“Clint...I promised her a nice cleanup after she came for us, didn’t I?”

That was permission, and Clint did not need it spelled out more clearly. He bolted forward from his chair, on his knees in front of her as Phil slipped his fingers out of her dripping slit. Nat whimpered at the loss, then choked on a laugh as Clint hooked his arms under her thighs to tug her to the very edge of the desktop, burying his face in her pussy like a man dying of thirst finally finding his oasis.

“Jesus--detka, da--!” Nat twisted her fingers into his hair, yanking exactly as hard as she knew Clint loved, riding his face as he licked up the slick traces of her first climax and worked diligently to push her into a second. “I’m--fuck, please, I need to--”

“Well, I said to  _ clean  _ you, and he didn’t ask if he could get you there...but you have been a very good girl for me. So yes, you may.” Phil had finally set down his fucking pen and was angled to watch them. Clint could see the hard, glorious line of the older man’s erection straining against his pants, but Phil’s ironclad self-control was infallible. He didn’t so much as rub it for a little relief as he watched Clint do his best work, sending Natasha catapulting into a second shattering orgasm.

“Sweet mother of God,” Nat panted, sagging back to lean on her forearms. “Knew I was gonna help you tease him, but I didn’t expect to get so much love of my own.”

“Do I ever leave you wanting when I use you against him?” Phil quipped, smirking as he stood from his chair. It put his clothed cock level with Clint’s face, and the kneeling archer whined low in his throat, swaying towards him slightly before catching himself. His handler raised an eyebrow. “Now, that was a close call. I’d have had to cage you if you’d touched me without permission, boy...”

“I mean, he has been rather sassy this whole time,” Nat pointed out, and Clint shot her an outright murderous look. “Sozhaleyu, darling, but it’s true.” She grinned wolfishly. “And you look and sound  _ so _ pretty if you’re caged while he fucks you.”

Clint looked swiftly to Phil, who chuckled. “Well, she’s right about that...” Ignoring Clint’s stricken expression, Phil picked up the folder of reports, flipping through them with his usual speed and efficiency. “But you did as you were told--and I only had to stop fingering Nat once to give you a chance at succeeding.”

He tossed the folder onto the desk. “On your feet, Clint. Give our girl a nice kiss, she was very good for me, wasn’t she?”

Clint was up instantly, nodding as he stepped between Nat’s spread thighs and cupped the back of her neck, hauling her in for a deep, searing kiss. She opened to him readily, lips parting to welcome his tongue and whimpering softly as Clint sucked and nibbled, tasting every inch of her mouth as his fingers plucked teasingly at her nipples just to make her writhe for him.

Then he grunted in surprise as Phil’s powerful hands gripped his hips, making him step back again far enough that he couldn’t reach Nat’s lips anymore. His pants were already undone; it was easy for Phil to force them down his legs, finding the base of the plug that Clint wore whenever they had the rare office day and giving it a testing twist. “Fuck! Sir, shit--please--”

“Such a good boy for me.” He heard the  _ snick _ of a tube opening; Nat smirked, muttering that of-fucking-course he kept lube in the office, and then Phil was slicking his rim and easing the plug out gently. It was placed on the desk beside Nat--they heard the older man’s zipper slide down--and then Phil was pressing the head of his cock against Clint’s hole, making him groan and try to spread his legs wider in welcome.

Clint tried to brace his hands on the edge of the desk, but Phil slammed inside of him in one smooth stroke without warning. He cried out, the momentum pushing him forward and pressing his face into Nat’s half-bared chest. She just petted her hands through his hair, murmuring soft affirmations and praises as Clint mouthed unsteadily at her tits, letting her keep him from tumbling forward as Phil fucked into him, hard and fast and without mercy.

“He’s close, moya lyubov',” she murmured, hissing as Clint bit down enough to leave a nice, dark hickey on the curve of her breast. “Sir, may I...?”

Whatever she was asking for, Phil’s growled response seemed to be affirmation; Clint blinked as she tipped his face up so that she could bend forward and kiss him tenderly. And then he gasped, mindlessly slamming himself backward onto Phil’s cock as Nat closed her fingers around his cock, smirking knowingly at him as she stroked in sync with Phil’s thrusts.

“I can’t--Nat-- _ sir _ , please, I’m gonna--” Clint was choking on his breaths, trying not to lose control too soon; he could not be disobedient now. Tears beaded in the corners of his eyes as he took the pounding, holding his breath in resistance to her stroking.

“That’s the idea, vozlyublennaya,” she whispered soothingly, stroking faster and tighter. “You’ve been so good for him. You’re all caught up, krasivyy, go ahead...come for me...clench down and let Sir fill you up...”

Clint couldn’t have held himself back to save his life.

He came with a sob, spilling over Nat’s fingers and reveling in the relief, and the low snarl of pleasure that he heard from behind as Phil felt his ass tighten around his cock.

The older man’s fingers dug into his hips, guaranteeing bruises that Clint would savor and worship for days to come--and then came the familiar, electrifying bliss of feeling his handler’s hot release spilling inside of him. Clint slumped forward in Natasha’s hold, panting and feeling drained to his core from the overwhelming ecstasy still pulsing through his veins.

His mind was fantastically blank, steeped in endorphins and the feeling of being safe between his two lovers. Clint hardly noticed when Phil gently eased out of him, focusing only on the warmth of Nat’s hands on his face and hair.

The plug was wiped clean and tenderly re-inserted, his pants eased back up over his hips, and then Phil was guiding his weight backwards. He went more than willingly, settling into Phil’s lap as he sank back into his chair and wrapped his arms around Clint securely. “Are you alright, baby?”

Clint nodded sluggishly, smiling when Nat slid forward off of the desk and onto her knees. Her fingers were infinitely careful and sweet as she cleaned and tucked away his spent cock, doing up his pants. Then she settled herself more comfortably on her knees, resting her cheek on Phil’s knee and gazing up at them with adoration in her sharp green eyes. Clint’s hand went to her hair, returning the gesture of affection that was a favorite between the two submissives.

“I’d say maybe next time you’ll remember to get your paperwork done for me in good time, but...”

“But why would I do that when the incentive to be naughty is so much better?” Clint quipped, grinning. “Sorry, sir, you’ve employed some  _ very _ difficult idiots.”

“You’re an idiot. I’m just selectively compliant,” Natasha retorted. Clint opened his mouth to fire back, but Phil just chuckled, placing his fingers firmly over the archer’s lips to keep him quiet.

“You’re both some of the cleverest, strongest, most stubborn brats I’ve ever known, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about either of you.” Phil paused, watching them preen under his affection, and then he snorted. “Well--your attention to the administrative components of your jobs could improve, but I suppose that would fundamentally change who you both are.”

They cuddled in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until Phil could sense the moment when Clint settled, safely out of danger of any kind of sub drop. Then the older man patted his hip gently. “Off you to go, back to work. I’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

Natasha eased to her feet and took Clint’s hand, drawing him from Phil’s embrace into hers with a sweet kiss before they headed for the door. Phil watched them go, his eyes narrowing as Nat leaned over to whisper something to Clint, shooting their boss one final, suspiciously-smug smirk before the door closed behind them.

He had a feeling he was in for an interesting evening with his pets.


End file.
